#relevations

"For anyone who curses his father or his mother shall surely be put to death" - Leviticus 20:9

 Embers of unclear burnt a paving path to a spiraling staircase. A dystopia forged by a whirlpool of regretful mistakes the place where flaw and the entities of stunt existed.   Smoke filled the area curating a smog from a cigarette. Could consider this a portion of the psyche that wrapped the Captain's decisions in remaining fogged. Without a proper gust or wind he remained unresolved. The outline etch of the tormentor's dress shoes came towards the Captain's in a bask of light the flame of the cigarette was crushed out between soles. The Pirate settled his head to lower in shame who and what this was...         

Fragmented splinters of memories floated through this distorted planescape that aching itch in one’s mentality of that gnawing depressor. There’s no place quite like the mind when it came to the array of capacity. A resolved and whole character who had centering balance they proved often shapers of endless creativity and mental fortitude. Tormentors were terrifying specters that often warped the mind in a million whispering hushed echos their pitches fit of misery. They sprawled around your subconscious preventing you from ever successfully moving onto growth. It encouraged the act of fear.

Whispering in distortion Negative uses fails as its repetitive weapon with unrelenting wickedness,  ”You’ve merely silence the beast within a gag, it doesn’t resolve the claws.”  ”Fester... hate... fume.. Let the inner you in. Only violent force makes dents.”                                                    “Boil until you’re deprived mad...”   “Here’s the thing about cross-roads, we’ve all decisions. You slept a bed with the devil than your own lover, that’s the difference is all.”         “Who’s left in your corner now?”           “You’re damaged.” “Those scars! You haven’t bled enough!”                      “You can’t do anything without others!”                                                  “Lose more! Lose MORE ANSWERS!” “Take everything. Settle at no expense.”                                                 “Look at your pathetic beast clutch its flower.” “Without Reasons your Heaven has Fallen”                                                         “You’re Hell of Unmet Promises.”                 “Show them real evil.”              “Actual violence.” “We killed the devil. That makes us the Devil.”        “They’re just fodder for us.”           “Anyone can replace them.” “Their thoughts hate you.”               “You’re loathed.”                         “How long until you gain only to lose the next batch?” “You can’t escape me.”                            “Others will die in your stead.“                              “Suit up. Confiscate your freedom.”       “Embrace the truth.”                  “Be one of them. One of US”              “Success needs to look the part.”                              “Do you remember her punches” ”Do you remember her bites?”             “Her dresses fade from you.”  “Perfection doesn’t look like you.” It pulled so desperately to pull to that place. Where in your subconscious you gave it power. Wanting to hear that you’re ‘undeserving.’ That you’re not ‘worthy.’ That you’re ‘inadequate.’ You’re a ‘reject.’ A failure once and always. Every step you took didn’t amount to anything wanting you to deter from the correct path. All the smallest insecurities, the harsh words you took from those closest to you, it saved to torture you with even when you said it didn’t bother you. -You lied... It bothered.- This menace came from the worst on the other-side of a mirror. Stabbing you again and again where the soul was until you were empty or left unsatisfied.  Miserable! It wanted you. Unhealthy it wanted you! Stagnant it wanted you to embrace the darkness. To spread toxicity and vileness in projection cause you couldn’t handle yourself. It mocked you by insulting you by being the opposite of what you once opposed. Wearing spikes instead of being in your comfortableness. It flashed your memories of the past to dwell. Instead of letting you see right before the future. The ultimate deceit. Demon buried under skins and minds constantly rotting until end of days is claimed. The Captain’s body began shaking as if frightened. "You're trembling because you know what remains the case..."    "Admit it..."            "You're Undeserving.”                              “Accept us..."                                              “Rejoin.”

The tormented pirate’s stance began regulating in steadiness. His head propping up as he revealed, he wasn't shaking... He was ugly laughing. With tears of manically, "Are ye kidding me? Yer my whole tormentor? Listen here Mopey-Dick, we're past that. I can't cast away my failures... If anyone ever put grander o' expectations that I was moral, well that's on them. I'm a screw-up -- grade A, the only time, I’ve gotten that grade with fit ranking! Even my dear ma' n' da' would be proud.--I'm twisted, one hundred percent. I don't do things by textbook, I'm a scrapper, a smash-mouth renegade. I thought my demon would be another Voidsent or much more intimidating and imposing... Though the fact, it’s lowly you..."

Pausing and laughing out in a disrupting loud, clutching his chest he thought he'd have a heart-attack.. "Or ME. -- Matey! This is what I call jolly findings... Listen. You ain't NOTHING! Second..." He'd crackle knuckles as if preparing for a beat-down before pretending to pick-up a link-pearl and bringing it to eared answer, his brow lifting in curiousness, before retorting, "It's NOTHING, says it’s for ye!" Then tossing the projected link-pearl at the tormentor’s head. He'd make a joke of his worst projection that he crafted, this part of him that nagged and gave doubtful voices. The only thing -UN- about this thing. Was WANTED! His willpower engulfed into a calamity of the brightest zen. What better way to conqueror yourself than shatter your own ego like the cigarette bud stomped earlier, insecurities, haunting nightmares, until it was deflated into mush. A reclaiming providence and control came back.

Realizing how insufficient his naysayer was that stood apart of him. That fragile side. He'd find his bellowing confidence back and recollect it from himself. Why he allowed his own-self to tear himself to shreds and cause grievance and lost, to strip himself of properly finding peace and conclusion was outside him.

To destroy this part would ensure he could properly find growth outside this internal stunt. A required necessity in being a Captain; Leader. Of True becoming the Anti-Steer.

this one felt good

it occurred to me today that if i had been born with a male body instead of a female body, that wouldn’t change any of the things that make me me. that wouldn’t change all of the things i feel about my gender.

here’s what i mean:

when i was born, i had a female body, so my parents put me in dresses and people bought me pink stuff and i got to be a girl scout but not a boy scout and for certain occasions my mother got me fancy jewelry instead of shit i actually wanted [for deeper analysis/context, pls refer to a much earlier post on the internal conflict of feeling like an ungrateful bitch when receiving inappropriately gendered presents].

as i grew up, i learned (and am continuing to learn) that i am more comfortable in clothes that have been societally gendered as male. i do not subscribe to most things that are stereotypically female (e.g. makeup, shaving legs/armpits, long hair, enjoying shopping, etc). i subconsciously bristle a little bit when people refer to me as a “she”. here’s the important thing: this is all part of what makes me me. If I had been born with a male body, I would still feel most comfortable in masculine clothing. I would still not wear makeup, and not shave my legs or my armpits, and I still would’ve wanted to be a boy scout as a child. If someone called me “she,” I most definitely would have bristled. The only thing is, all of that crap would’ve been a lot more socially acceptable had I been born with a dick. Being born with a vagina and growing into obnoxiously large Latina hips and boobs just meant that the people around me tried to get me to like and do a bunch of things that made (and still make) me really uncomfortable. 

But now that I understand the difference between sex and gender, now that I know that trans is a thing that looks all different ways, now that I understand more about who I am and what makes me comfortable and what makes me happy: Now that I know all that, I’m starting to become a lot more comfortable. I went to a trans-friendly barbershop two weeks ago and got the best fucking haircut I’ve ever had in my whole entire life. The fact that I teared up a teensy lil bit when I typed that sentence is evidence enough. For the first time in, honestly, my life, I feel like I want to go back to the same place and tell the person who cut my hair, “Just do what you did last time.” For the first time in my life, I’m heading into a professional workplace super fucking pumped about the clothes I’m going to wear. I’m going to be a math teacher, and I bought NERDY MATH TIES. Oh my gosh, y’all. They’ve got equations and everything. And I have some rad button-downs, and pants that don’t accentuate my stupid Latinx curves, and the sweetest kicks ever thanks to the folks over at tomboytoes (major shout-out, seriously).* I shopped for these clothes and I liked it. I have never before in my life ever enjoyed shopping for clothing, especially professional clothing. I enjoy shopping for hockey stuff and that’s about it. Except now, now that I know I can go into work in a binder, and button-down, and brogues, and a BAD ASS BOW TIE (loving the alliteration here, too), now, I actually like shopping for work. I get excited about my outfits when I get dressed in the morning. And I have to laugh, because, like, is this how it feels? Is this how it feels for cis people to get ready for work in the morning? Like, holy shit. I haven’t felt that for the first twenty-three years of my life. Oh my gosh. It feels amazing. 

**clothing props to Gender Free World, JC Penney, J Crew Factory, Tomboy Toes, and of course DapperQ’s style guide for pointing me in the right direction for professional shopping!

relatedly, thoughts on my ability to empathize with trans women:

on one hand, I get it. Because I get what it’s like to not want to be in the body you have. Because I get how it feels to see clothes that are made for your body type and want to cry because you already know that none of them are things you will feel comfortable wearing. Because I get how it feels to be scared that nobody will ever love you as you are, to be scared that nobody will ever love you because of who you are. Because I get how it feels to worry that your family will never understand, to fear that they will reject you, to fear that they will continue to treat you as the person your biological gender dictates and not who you feel you are. 

i write a lot faster when it’s gay